Loivissa
by Rainbow-man
Summary: Eragon, Saphira. After they win battle, the people of Alagasia no longer require them to save them, and the two are ostracized from society because of how alien they are. They leave Alagasia, and a foreign land brings them closer together.
1. Waking dreams

Author's note:

Howdy, peeps. This is my first time actually uploading some of my useless dribbles in writing. I hope you like it; I'm planning on writing waaaaaaaaay more for the actual chapters. This is just a prologue. Well, I'm going to try to upload some of it once to three times every month; I've go it all pretty much planned out in my mind. I need a beta if anyone is interested; I would really like someone good, which I know is terrible to say, but unless you really know what you are doing and know how to catch many a terrible mistake-- because belive me, I'm terrible at editing-- I'd rather not waste your time or my time fretting over wiether or not I've writtin something right or wrong.

woah. That was longwinded. Anyways, review and tell me if I have any mistakes orn if you like the story!

Warnings: It cusses, and I use "U's" frivolously. Like, "colour," "humour," and "glamour." If extra "U's" offend you, than haha, you've been pwn'd by the power of "U." Enjoy the story!

Waking Dreams

Eragon opened his eyes slowly, wondering what had just happened. He sat up and looked around the camp. The smoldering embers left an eerie glow about the trees around him, and, looking up, the stars were still readily visible in the night sky.

_Go back to sleep, little one. It was bound to happen sometime or another. _Saphira didn't even open her eyes as she spoke to him. The brushing consciousness against his mind was comforting in an otherwise unfamiliar and uncaring place. It was times like this, when only he and Saphira loped around this strange land, that he wondered if anything he had done was really worth it.

Growling, Saphira opened one giant blue eye and stared at him. _None of that tonight. Go to sleep, forget all this nonsense, and think about other things if think you must. Just stop disrupting my sleep with your incessant human emotions. It's bad enough out here as it is… _Closing her eye, she drifted off once more.Smoke was billowing out of her nostrils, and he thought it best not to cross her.

Sighing, he laid down next to her, and tried his best to erase his older memories, and more unsettling newer trance-like dreams. He knew she felt the same way; she was just better at hiding it.

o0o0o0o0o0o0

_The battle field was coated in blood. Eragon remembered the smells of the rotting meat all around him, but pushed it out of his mind as he mechanically chopped his way through the crowd. He could feel the people around him dying. Consciousnesses fading out, like dying stars in mornings first hateful rays. _

_Still, he pushed on, the lone tower of Uru'Baen looming before him, the final thresh hold before the end. In that tower loomed the fate of Alagasia. In that tower, Galbatorix sat waiting, the cowardly bastard biding his time before he had to fight. Eragon and Saphira had already hardened their hearts to the thought of losing each other; they had experienced it already through the mind of Glaedr, who's Eldunari lay embedded in Eragon's chest. Uttering a few simple words in the ancient language he fused the golden stone into his breast, right above his heart, as he a Saphira thought it most belonged. Not only did it protect Glaedr from being stolen, but it made sure that Eragon always had his almost limitless supply of energy to use when Eragon really needed it._

_Crying out, he a Saphira charged the gates, opening it easily with Saphira's massive weight. Inside, soldiers were waiting to ambush them, but the duo was far from helpless. Letting out a jet of blue fire from her massive jaws, the flesh began to fall from the faces and bodies of the painless enemies. A cruel, humourless laugh issued from among the dying soldiers as they continued to advance, never feeling the foul sting of the fire on their flesh. They continued burning, even as the Varden's forces began pouring into the massive pillar that was Uru'Baen. Galbatorix's burning soldier didn't last long, as they began to disintegrate under the weight of their own armor. As the Varden's troops, led by Roran, began storming the immense lair, Saphira and Eragon began to climb up the stair, going higher and higher until they reached the top. After what seemed life an hour searching the top level of the tower, Eragon felt a sudden blast of energy coming from on of the doors. The entire castle was immense; obviously it had been created to accommodate to Shruikan's giant being; Saphira was able to run freely in the massive hallways._

_The door in front of them, directly in the back of the hallway emanated one of the most horrifying energies Eragon had ever felt. It felt crazed, completely mad, sucking in all poor souls unfortunate enough to clamber upon it's unfortunate existence. It took everything he had in him not to turn tale and run. The force behind it must be so menacing…._

GO!!_ Saphira shouted. He could feel her writing in her skin, an abhorring feeling washing over him. Looking at one another, they charged through the door._


	2. Goals

Author's note:

Hello again, peeps. This is Rainbow-man, giving a better, hopefully longer story. :3 I hope you like it. Sorry it took me so long to post. I suck at life, and my life sucks-- ah, but such is the great circle of angst that is being a sixteen year old, yes? Enjoy the story, and forgive the innocent blitherings of this frail writer and his horrible procrastination. J Please, enjoy the story!

Warnings: Cussing, violence. That's it, I think.

Title here.

Eragon woke up, drenched in a cold sweat. His "dreams" were becoming increasingly venomous. Now, they were never enough to wake him from his trance-like state, but he almost always awoke with a feeling of grief and loss. Then again, the final battle between the land of Alagasia and Galbatorix had rendered Eragon cold. He retreated into himself in order to find a reprieve from the memories in his apathy.

It had never occurred to him that killing Galbotorix would destroy himself in the process. There was of course no doubt that he would one day return to Alagasia, if only for a little while before departing once more for good, but he needed time to reflect his meaning now the empire was brought down.

There wasn't really any more use for a dragon rider; what left had he to fight? There were no more villains he could thwart; none but petty thieves and murderers, but they had been defeated by "normal" society before and after the downfall of the riders. No, there was nothing in Alasgasia left for him. He would have to find meaning somewhere else, for it did not reside with his friends and family.

He could search for other dragons across the sea, perhaps in a different land, and restore the riders to their former glory, but there would be no point in that, either. Riders had been the cause of Alagasia's trouble, if they should return, what would they do? There was hardly enough for one rider to do, let alone many. The only thing awaiting new riders in Alagasia was temptation for an ultimate power, and he would not be the one to unleash such a heinous problem on the land once more. If dragons never returned, it would be better for all the inhabitants. It was a sad conclusion, but he did not trust anyone but his closest friends anymore. Leaving such a power unattended would be foolish, but he wasn't about to babysit--

_Little one._ Saphira's clean voice rang throughout Eragons head, shocking him from his brooding thoughts. _For once, I'd like you to wake up with a clear mind. _She lifted up her massive head, and, without opening her eyes, stretched her long neck and growled loudly, disturbing the animals who still slept.

_Sorry. I haven't been-_

_Yourself lately, yes I know. _She cut him off; he had used the same excuse for many weeks now, and she was getting more than a little irritated. _Trust me, I know. Please. _Opening her eyes and looking at him with a dreary gaze, she yawned loudly in the crisp morning air. The sky was getting brighter, the once dark sky now retreating into a more yellow red hue that illuminated the surrounding area once more.

_What are we going to do today? _She asked him. The last few days, nay, the last few _weeks _had been nothing but aimless wondering and shameless self reflections.

Eragon had to admit, it certainly was more peaceful now that there was nothing for him to do, but he didn't know if having so much time to think was a good thing or a bad thing. He'd been able to reach more than a few vital conclusions that were important to his existence, but he had also come up with questions that prattled on and on in his mind. Unable to answer them, he settled for talking to Saphira for hours while flying and walking around without purpose.

_I'm not sure. _He answered her truthfully, but he still felt the flair of annoyance that issued from Saphira's mind. _We can't go about like we've been doing._ He wasn't sure on which one he preferred- trying to find a purpose or just continuing his nomadic existence.

_I think that if we don't find something meaningful to do, you're going to be _walking_ to where ever you feel like going. I want to be doing something; I'm growing restless with our aimlessness, as I believe is the problem you're facing right now. All this time has gone to your head; let's go back to the Varden and see-_

_No! _Eragon Interrupted her from her lecture and looked at her bashfully. She looked in shock. _I--I'm sorry. I don't want to go back now. Please, we can leave later this week. I feel like I've been pulled in so many different directions lately. I'm sick of feeling controlled by everyone. The dwarves, Nasuada… I don't know how many more parts of my life I can give to people. I understand my duty as a rider requires me to be 'for the people,' but am I so chained down now that there will never be any time for me anymore?_

Eragon had worked himself into a quiet indignity; Saphira remained silent through his speech, and for sometime afterward. After she felt his anger had simmered down slightly, she began to speak.

_Eragon, I understand. If anything, I'm the one who should feel slighted by your loyalties. I'm not the one bound by them, but you're taken away from me every time you are called to honour your commitments. And I will never bind myself to such fickle mortal loyalties as you have done. Now, if I were in your position, I would not think twice about making the same decisions, but I'm _not _you. That being said, you're in a very odd position. You really don't have a purpose in life without any rider-esque goals-- _Eragon shot her a nasty look, but she ignored it and continued-- _but you also don't want to be tied down or stay in the Varden's lap to become a politician. Are you so above being some kind of ruler?_

At that, Eragon fell silent. Such a thought _had_ been growing on his mind ever sense Galbatorix's defeat. He really didn't want to govern over any body, but he was growing extremely restless, and perhaps it would give him something to do--

_NO-- no, no, no, Saphira, please. I've hardly been myself these days, I can't make big decisions in my state. I feel like this has all been a haze…. _He retreated once more into his mind, dulling his thoughts for at least a little while.

Sighing, Saphira gave up trying to convince him otherwise. _If you are so contented with wandering, so shall I be, but I _DO_ want to go back at some time. _And with those words, she yawned once more, and unfolded her massive wings. The muscles rippled in her back-- watching her still impressed Eragon, no matter how long they were together. She lifted off the ground, and within half a minute, she was gone. Watching her ever shrinking silhouette in the distance, he mulled over their conversation in his mind.

He would go back. He owed it to the Varden, to Nasuada… to everyone who helped him survive. But most of all, he believed, he owed it to Saphira. She was right-- as she almost always was, such is an annoying habit with many females. Being with him through out his long exhibition to find himself, she was either bored out of her mind, or constantly depressed, being connected to his ever darkening consciousness.

Yes, they would go back, and finish up everything they needed to finish-- not that he knew what that could possibly have been-- and to say good bye for good. Maybe talking to other people would give them a chance to find their own goals.

Eragon was always treated well-- he would never admitted it, but he was used to being treated a certain way. He always felt that he meant something to the world; people wanted to know him, to talk to him, to-- eerily enough-- touch him. (Perhaps they thought he could heal through touch? Either way, it was very scary walking through a village to have people running up, touching your back, and then running away. ) People had bent over backwards for him-- they made him feel like he belonged, like he was bigger than his frame let on. Now that his purpose had been carried out, he'd never felt so small before in his life.

o0o0o0o0o0o0

_They rushed through the door-- but the energy had abruptly stopped. The room was dark, until a jet of black fire blasted through the darkness. Saphira quickly stopped it in it's tracks with her own fire, but a growl erupted from the bowels of the room. _

_It was still deathly dark. Even with his improved Elvin eyes, Eragon had a very tough time discerning any shapes. After the growl, the was a tremble on the ground, as if a great… something was moving. Eragon could only imagine that it was Shruikan. Shuddering, he and Saphira were both on edge. Eyes vainly scanning the room, he was prepared for anything._

_Well, almost anything._

_There was a click, and the room was suddenly ablaze with light. His eyes had no time to adjust-- he yelled some obsinities, and shut his eyes, adrenaline pumping faster than he knew was good for him. He heard a laughing from across the room, and a loud 'thud.' Saphira roared from somewhere beside him. After the few seconds it took from him to finally gain sight back again, she and Shruikan were already violently fighting-- the blood from both dragons began to pool on the hard stone floor. He screamed her name, but the only response from her was a forceful mental push-- which meant back off, as he had come to learn. _

_The figures of the two dragons fighting was mesmerizing-- there was a pain in his heart that he couldn't describe. They were beautiful, and horrifying. He had seen Saphira fight before, but never like this. Her ivory teeth bared, her silvery claws stained-- the blue scales she was so proud of where being hacked and stained with her own and Shruikan's blood. It was like she was a different dragon… A different person. It pained him to know there was still a part of Saphira he didn't know about, and perhaps would never know about. _

_He was something else entirely. Shurikan, that is. He was giant-- he towered over Saphira, not that that stopped them from being neck and neck. His black scales shone with white specks of light so much so that it was like looking into a perfect sky. He could hardly tell the blood from anything else. He was menacing, and scary beyond compare, and yet, his swings meant nothing. There was a lag in his step that confused both Eragon and Saphira. He wasn't even trying-- like he was exhausted. Eragon kept feeling _bad_ for the black dragon. It was like he was beyond caring. Mechanical. It was…. Pathetic. There was no other word for it. Was Shruikan just another pawn in Galbatorix's plan? Was HE the bad one, when he could do nothing to curve his actions, being controlled like a puppet from behind the scenes? He wanted so badly to set the dragon free, but how could he let Shruikan go without killing half of the dragon's mind, Galbatorix?_

_At the end of the room, a figure sat in a chair. He continued to laugh. Laughing, and laughing. Hate like Eragon had never felt before in his life began to well up inside his stomach. Screaming, Eragon couldn't help himself anymore. _

YOU!!_ He could think of nothing more to say. Even this monosyllabic phrase fell from his mouth as though it was some horrible ailment Eragon's body was trying to get rid of. _

_With no time to lose, Eragon ran towards him; his sword, Brisngr, held erect at his side, waiting to plunge it's judgment fire into Galbatorix's heart. How he wanted to see the flesh melt off this man. He wanted all the torture in the world to befall this… creature. But more on the torture later. He would kill him now, desecrate the body later-- perhaps he would tear all the limbs away from the body? Cut the man to bits, feed him to the dogs? Slice the man to ribbons, and use the flesh to--_

"_You certainly take no time in admiring the future." _


End file.
